


You Definitely Can't Play Piano

by TheShipHasSailed22



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, CP, Captain Pan, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Smut, piano lessons, piano teacher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-11-05 23:49:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11024151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShipHasSailed22/pseuds/TheShipHasSailed22
Summary: Killian is offered the deal of a lifetime by his devious boss, Mr Gold that he simply can't refuse. However, like all the deals man makes, it requires a sacrifice from the receiving end - a price; Killian must endure a piano lesson as the teacher of his boss's smug son, Peter. Despite any and all of the man's efforts, the piano lesson doesn't turn out exactly as he had initially planned thanks to a certain misbehaving teen.





	1. The Deal

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again!
> 
> So basically, I've been editing, editing and editing this until finally, I was happy with it (it took me forever, but I finally got there). Now none of this would've been possible if it weren't for my amazing beta (Tumblr: @hookedpiper). Thank you for all of your amazing help sheesh, much appreciated <3
> 
> Speaking of Tumblr, since my last fanfic, I created myself a Tumblr account where I basically fangirl about CaptainPan and make edits (Tumblr: @robbie-oh-kay) 
> 
> I intend to add numerous chapters to this; How many and how regularly I'll post them, I don't yet know for sure, but I will assure you all that this will be complete eventually. 
> 
> Anyway, without any further delay, enjoy!

Mr. Gold, ‘The Crocodile’ (a nickname Killian and his friends proudly created for the man), was always a man of his deals, and although Killian didn’t want to accept this one, he had to if he ever wanted to get out of his sad excuse of an office job to become a musician. The deal: give piano lessons to his boss’s bratty son. 

He thoroughly disliked Mr. Gold, that much he was certain of - always making him work back long hours and not giving a damn about his life outside of work and future career ambitions. It was only when Killian attended the staff Christmas party that his boss had finally discovered his true talents - and, of course, he was going to take full advantage of them. Mr. Gold presented him with a deal that he just couldn’t afford to pass up: if he gave his son piano lessons, he would give him a generous raise as his way of contributing to Killian’s future ambitions, whatever they may be. 

He initially suspected the child was going to be a handful considering the enormity of the offer coming from an infamously greedy man, not to mention how the boy’s reputation preceded him around the office. Word would often spread from one office cubicle to another about the boy; being the leader of a street gang called ‘The Lost Boys’, once setting fire to Gold’s couch, ‘having his way’ with whomever he wanted. Although Killian wasn’t foolish enough to rely on silly office rumours made by bored office employees. Surely they weren’t true... right?

\--- 

Finally, the day arrived - the day he would finally meet this ‘trouble child’. 

How couldn't the kid be a brat with the Crocodile raising him, pondered Killian. Afterall, from afar the Crocodile appeared to be anything but a good father figure. What hope did this kid have?

As he drove into the semi-circle driveway, he couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the house. Now he knew that Peter without a doubt had to be a rich, snobby kid. Great.

Killian nervously rang the doorbell, only to be greeted by the beautiful Belle Gold. 

“Hello Mr Jones. Long time, no see,” said a warm, glowing Mrs Gold; A woman far too bright to be tethered to the beast she was married to.

“Aye, pleasure to see you again Mrs Gold,” replied Killian, with his charismatic, womanising tone, then taking the woman’s hand and placing a gentle kiss upon it. It had indeed been awhile since the two had crossed paths, the last time being at a charity ball not long after the memorable Christmas party. He remembered her walking with such grace, spinning around in her dazzling frock, showing off her external beauty, though her internal warmth had always her most beautiful asset.

“Now now, it’s Belle, just Belle,” she corrected, chuckling at his chivalrous charm. Belle escorted him into the large, spacious house. Killian took in and admired the inside of the house with all its architectural beauty and exquisite antique furniture and decorations choices - yet another indication to support the theory of Peter being world's snobbiest teen. 

Belle soon led him into the living room. In the room, amongst all of the antique, rich in history decorations and furniture was by far the most beautiful grand piano Killian had ever laid his eyes on. There in all its beauty; every key in pristine condition, glowing with the ever growing desire to be touched, calling for attention, and judging from the thin layer of dust over the untouched keys, no one in the household could play, let alone take the time to practice - such a waste.

“Take a seat Mr Jones, make yourself at home while I go fetch Peter,” said Belle, adding her kindhearted smile in as she left the room. It was a shame that someone like her was stuck with someone like him, the blasted crocodile.

As Killian took a seat, his curious fingertips ghosted over the keys that as a result of neglect, had become covered with dust, his mind started to wonder, started to tick. What was he doing here? What if the kid was even worse of a nightmare than he had first pictured? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Maybe he should just work his way to a promotion some other way. Maybe he should’ve - Before another thought could pass through his hyperactive mind, the sound of clicking heels against the marble floor announced Belle’s reappearance, this time accompanied by a smug teen standing by her side. 

“Killian, I would like you to meet Peter. Peter, this is Killian, he's here for your piano lesson,” Belle grinned chirply, full of glee gesturing between the two boys.

Killian hesitated briefly, his hand reaching for a shake, muttering, “Afternoon, mate, nice to meet you,” in an attempt to break the ice.

The boy cocked a brow high before reaching out to the offered hand, the shake surprisingly firm, a lesson Killian assumed was taught by the crocodile himself. “Hi Killian, I’m Peter if you didn’t hear it the first hundred times,” he snickers glancing briefly to Belle; “It's such a pleasure to meet you,” Peter droned unenthused, but the way the boy looked at him implied otherwise. So much sarcasm dripping off his every word - something that would ordinarily be found as annoying and arrogant to Killian, but coming from Peter, it was… attractive. 

He couldn’t deny that the boy had all the stops. He was lithe in form, almost feminine with his wide hips and thin shoulders; ash-blonde hair, carelessly strewed over his forehead, curling over his ears; and eyes a bright, piercing green as they watched him in return, burning his skin. Killian smirked when he caught the boy’s glances up and down, a pink tongue flickering over his lip briefly. True, he was undoubtedly attractive for his age, and taking from the smug smirk planted on Peter’s face when he too was caught, he knew it.

He stepped back to get a wider view of the scene before him, glancing between the woman and her son his smirk fell. Belle dressed in a simple blue dress, nothing fancy, clearly worn. Peter posed beside her with a long-sleeve, grey shirt that extended past his fingertips; jeans that clung tight on his legs, the dark wash of black material faded on the joints; and worn Chucks adorning his feet. It makes Killian second-guess his own attire, appearing overdressed with his suit pants and plain, white button up, the sleeves scrunched up to his elbows. A complete contrast, having expected formal attire where the rich was concerned, especially a rich kid, thus he showed up semi formal not even thinking the scene would be casual. Not the best start, he thinks.

“Peter, your father and I will be gone for quite a while on our picnic, so make sure you make Mr Jon– Killian feel at home. He’s just going to give you a lesson on playing the piano. So play nice and don’t give him a hard time like the last teacher you had, okay?” Belle said as she cupped Peter’s face affectionately with her one free hand.

“Yes, Belle,” replied Peter, lazily dragging out his words. 

‘Don’t give him a hard time like the last teacher?’ What did the brat do to that last poor soul? More importantly, what was the brat going to do his poor soul? 

Before leaving, Belle picked out a few reading books from the bookshelf and placed a kiss upon Peter’s cheek, embarrassing the bashful boy on her way out. The boy had a soft spot after all, so it appeared.

After the sound of the door closing echoed throughout the house, Peter wandered off to the window to observe his parents driving away, which then followed with a sigh of relief released from his formerly clasped lips.

“Finally, they're gone,” said a relieved Peter as he redirected his attention to  
Killian while still leaning his forearm against the window seal. 

“I’m not going to lie, I was expecting to be introduced to yet another babbling 70-year-old idiot like the last one, but after seeing you instead, I’ve got to say, I’m not disappointed…” Peter stated, with a smug smirk plastered onto his face, looking the man up and down with his blazing green eyes, attempting to break the thick awkward silence that followed after Belle and Rumple’s departure caused by a nervous piano teacher who did not expect to be teaching an attractive 17-year-old who he couldn’t take his eyes off of.

Killian didn't know whether to be flattered (most likely the boy’s intent) or afraid: afraid of what the boy would do if Killian didn't meet his standards of being a tolerable piano teacher. Instead, Killian simply plastered a smile upon his face before turning to his musical sheet book, scrambling to retrieve his lesson plan. 

“So, tell me Killian, are you here to teach me some stupid and utterly useless piece of music like ‘Mary Had A Little Lamb’, or something actually original?” inquired a curious Peter, playfully trying to grab the music sheet from Killian’s hand.

Embarrassingly, that was actually exactly what Killian had planned for him. After all, what else was he going to teach an amateur pianist such as Peter?

“Umm…Well actually…” mumbled Killian, gripping the back of his neck with his free hand, thinking of a way to make his lesson one that would meet the standards of the apparently hard to impress boy. 

“Something interesting? Different? Original in comparison to the rest of the sad excuses of musically composed ‘masterpieces’?” Peter asked with a glimpse of hope in his eyes - hope that maybe Killian wasn't like the others. 

“Mary Had A Little Lamb seemed like a good place to start to me, wouldn’t you agree?” Killian asked nervously, not wanting the boy to be disappointed, but it was too late. Peter’s face had sunken into the unimpressed expression the man had anticipated to see plastered on the boy’s face.

“Oh, great. Now I am sure to fall asleep during your ‘exciting’ lesson!” Peter replied. Again with the sarcasm. Now Killian realised that despite his ‘easy going’ exterior, he may have still inherited the snobbiness that featured upon his father so evidently. 

“Look, mate, I don’t want to be here either, okay? But I really need you to just help me out here. At least try not to make it any more difficult than it really needs to be for either of us. Please Peter,” Killian pleaded to the boy whose eyes appeared to be otherwise distracted, wondering up towards the man’s soft, partially lips separated.

“Peter..?” repeated a hopeful Killian, almost begging with his pleading eyes. He hated being like this - so needy and helpless, relying solely upon a smug, arrogant teen. Just when Killian had lost hope, the boy replied with the roll of his eyes, followed by an exhausted sigh.

“Oh… fine. I may not feel like it, but today is your lucky day. You’ve got the afternoon to turn me into Beethoven, and I expect nothing less,” the boy replied as he turned around to dawdled towards the piano stool. Killian following closely behind him to the piano, chuckling, amused by the boy’s sarcastic remarks stated compulsively though seeming to flow out like second nature. 

And so the two began Peter’s lesson. Killian explaining the configuration of the piano keys and the sequence of the song, which keys to press for the first verse of the song. Half and hour had soon passed and things were shaping out to be anything but successful.

“Third, second, first, second, third… and again,” calmly repeated Killian, over and over again as Peter’s frustration continued to grow.

“Here, I’ll place my hand over yours to get the feel of it,” suggested Peter, followed by Killian hesitantly complying. Peter slid closer to him, his hips smacking into Killian’s, allowing better access to the man’s hands. The boy’s lithe, smooth fingers creeped on top of his piano teacher’s, eagerly awaiting movement. Killian’s hands moved to play the first verse to perfection. Killian could feel eyes burning on him once again, at his hand playing the keys, watching the way Killian’s fingers nimbly slid to and from each of the keys repeatedly in the sequence of the melody, but when Killian stopped, he found the boy to be disappointed, no longer hearing the sweet melody, no longer feeling the man’s warm hands underneath his own.

“Now you try,” said Killian, offering him the chance to try again, which Peter did not look at all impressed about.

“That’s what we’ve been doing for the last half an hour…” mumbled the boy, aggravated by the fact that Killian was still adamant that he played the song that he had for the entire duration of the lesson demonstrated he could not play. Just as the boy was about to once again attempt the song, something appeared to have cracked within him, startling Killian with his next move. 

“Killian! For fuck sake, I can’t play the piano, okay!?” Peter finally admitted, rising up off of the stool, trying, towering over the seated man, trying to gain the upper hand. 

“That’s why I’m teaching you!” replied Killian looking up at the boy, still half surprised by the youngest’s sudden outburst, not entirely shocking however since he had already predicted he, the brat, would give in at some stage.

“Well maybe I don’t want to be taught! Just because my stupid father is making me get lessons regardless of whether I want them or not, doesn’t mean I want this,” replied Peter, growing more and more impatient. “I am sorry to admit, but this ‘lesson’ is coming to appear more and more futile as it progresses,” Peter reaffirmed the obvious in Killian’s eyes once more.

“Maybe if we just try t-” Killian attempted to respond.

“Fine then, maybe I should rephrase what I just said: Killian, I can’t play ‘Mary Had A Little-fucking-Lamb’, nor do I want to learn it, okay?!” rephrased Peter, adding in a sprinkle of his trademark ‘fuck you’ sarcasm.

“Well I came here to teach you something, so that’s what I am going to do,” said Killian, remaining seated and growing more calm with the situation and the exasperated teen unleashing his frustration before him. Peter returned a gaze to Killian, like a spark had lit up his mind, igniting a little something called an idea - a truly terrifying event being in Killian’s position.

“Well then why don’t you teach me something a little more… enjoyable to learn,” Peter suggested, leaning his elbow on the rim of the case of the grand musical instrument, inching closer to the still seated Killian.

“Like what?” replied the genuinely curious man, completely unaware of the direction of the conversation, let alone what it would lead to.

“I think I may have a few suggestions Killian…” and with a smirk, the real lesson had begun.


	2. An Unforgettable Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter was ready to make his move on his new ~~toy~~ piano teacher, but how would Killian react. Would he give in to the alluring teen? Or would he be able to resist his boss's son?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know it has taken quite awhile, but I'm back! And I have come with a new chapter to bare out to my dedicated Captain Pan readers (: This was actually a lot of fun to write. Even though it is just a little 'tease', I promise you, this is only the beginning. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this new chapter!

“A few suggestions, huh? Now tell me boy, what did you have in mind?” queried Killian, now standing up next Peter, finally catching onto the boy’s intentions.

“How about I show you love, huh?” Peter replied, pouncing on the unsuspecting piano teacher he desired so madly. The boy pulling both down to be seated on the piano stool as they were previously, lanky arms now latched around a broad neck, pulling down Killian’s face to meet his, igniting a much anticipated spark between two pairs of lips.

As soon as contact was made, wild eyes sprung open as a result of shock from the boy’s impulsive action, and yet, curiosity ~~and lust~~ swam through his veins, tempted to imagine where this would eventually lead him, until a cold reality, _fear_ , struck him; This was his life, _his_ career, at stake. Sure, the by was attractive and had lips like an ocean, but the teen boy behind the kiss was also his boss's son, and if he was - _God forbid_ \- caught by Rumple with this boy, this life and career of his was as good as gone.

With the strength of his self-control and built arms, Killian pushed the starving wanton boy away. He simply couldn’t allow this to happen, not to him, not to his life, his career; he _couldn’t_.

“Hey, hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Peter now looking more determined, more ravenous for the taste of something familiar, that desire unadmittedly boiling within Killian too - no, he _couldn’t_ \- he wouldn’t.

“Oh c’mon _Mr Jones_ , it’s not like you don’t kiss me back. Most definitely not as if you didn’t like what you tasted…” Peter purred out, taunting his formally given name, cooing warmly into Killian’s attentively listening ear, nibbling on the cartilage of his outer ear while slyly slipping onto Killian’s lap, straddling him before striking again.

 _‘If the bloody bastard keeps doing this, I don’t think I’ll be able to restrain myself,’_ the thought ran through Killian’s mind while again trying to retrieve that much needed willpower from within to push Peter’s magnetic lips away once more. “What about your parents, huh? What would they think of this?! I mean, I’m suppose to be teaching you how to play the fucking piano, not ‘101 sex positions you’ve never thought of’,” Peter chuckling as his lips travelled from the struggling man’s lips, down to his neck.

“My, my, _please_ don’t be shy, do share. Or perhaps you would like to demonstrate a few..?” Peter grinding his hips softly against a subtle hardening below his ass. He pulling away briefly to meet Killian’s face, bursting out into laughter when he found rosy cheeks washed in an embarrassing tone of red.

“Your parents…” Killian struggled to let out as kisses washed down his neck to his collar bone.

“... don’t care,” Peter replied, sinking further and further down, fighting away Killian’s defensive hands, barely attempting to pull him back up. Tired hands losing the will to defend, eventually surrendered. Peter’s face washed over in a smirk as realisation had hit the both of them; game over.

Fresh rain trickling down against the window as Peter settled down onto his knees since he had finally won, ready to claim his prize. Skilful hands beginning to work away at loosening Killian’s restraining belt. Killian’s power of authority over the alluring teen was almost certainly detained from him, leaving the only thing left to do: to sit and watch his life and career fall down, but at least it would be pleasurable.

There Killian was, elbow slumped against the edge of the piano as he remained seated on the piano stool, watching Peter’s nimble fingers unlatch his belt, tugging down-- _wait_.

Killian’s head shot to the window behind the piano seeking a sight he prayed not to find. His paranoid mind losing sensation from the fear of being caught like this; Peter at his feet, on his knees, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down as Killian offering himself wholly to the underage son of his boss. Squinting eyes darting left and right attempting to see through the blurry window covered in drizzling rain droplets behind the grand instrument. Movement was hard to identify with the rapidly pouring rain continuing to build up.

_No. It couldn’t. Of course it couldn’t… could it? No, n-- oh no._

It _is_.

The sound of a key unlatching the lock of the door sent Peter to the ground as Killian instinctively shoved the mischievous boy away from his lap, manically buckling back up his belt. A surreal feeling washed over him; this moment in his life had suddenly turned into a slow motion horror film that would momentarily lead to the next scene - a homicide.

Peter’s eyes raced to the door as he finally registered what all Killian’s panic was spurring from. Killian’s frantic eyes met Peter’s seemingly unfazed eyes as within the moments before the door finally swung open.

“We’re back!” echoed the voice of the soft spoken Belle as the sound of an aggravated grunt was identified as Rumple’s.

“And conveniently saturated,” added an obviously displeased Rumple.

The two walked into the doorway of the living room to find Peter and Killian; Peter, laid out in a relaxed manner on the floor, perched up on his elbow, and Killian, leaning against the edge of the piano, still seated on the stool, pants thankfully done up and frozen with the facial expression of a stunned mullet.

Killian patiently waiting for Rumple to stare daggers at him with livid eyes, completely consumed with rage with what had just occurred, as if he could just tell exactly what he had done from just looking at his state - messy hair, belt done up too loosely, top button of his button up shirt undone - _‘How was it not obvious?’_ Killian wondered. But of course, the expressions on Belle’s face was her neutral jolly smile, and Rumple neutral crocodile frown - everything was _okay_.

“I'm guessing rainy weather isn't the best weather for a picnic, as it would appear,” Peter remarked at the amusing sight of he drenched parents. Belle giggled in response.

“No, I suppose not Peter,” Belle chuckled as she replied. Rumple looking back to Belle’s smile, the smile which somehow, remarkably, never ceased to create the crocodile’s own smile.

“Peter, may I ask what the hell you think you are doing on the floor when you’re suppose to be playing the piano…? Over there?” Rumple queried, standing over his son while pointing towards Killian and the piano’s direction. Killian’s face morphing into a face overcome with dread.

“Why don’t you know father? All the best musicians have to stretch before performing their masterpieces on a musical instrument,” Peter coyly stated before idiotically sitting up and stretching his arm to reach his toes causing Belle to snicker while leaning against the doorway. Killian’s eyes darting to Peter’s non-verbally saying, _‘What the hell are you doing?!’_

“My God, you're an idiot. Right, sure you are lad…” a confused Rumple said before retreating back to an amused Belle. Killian knows from experience that the best way to alleviate any concern from the grumpy crocodile was to simply confuse him; something that comes to Peter all too naturally from experience with his father.

“So tell me Killian, how did he go? Anything _interesting_ happen while we were out?” Belle asked as she continued to wring her hair out of the cool rain water it had absorbed earlier. Thousands of response paced through his mind: ~~_‘Your son kissed me, seduced me, nearly blew me and can’t play the piano for shit,’_~~ the statement ran through his head over and over again, but what would he honestly say? He could barely move, still overcome with the shock that he and Peter were very nearly caught in the act, so how would he struggle out the summary of their ‘productive’ piano lesson?

“It went quite well thanks Belle. Killian attempted to teach me ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ which really entertained me, _didn’t it_ Killian?” Peter coyly retorted innocently for the obviously still shaken Killian. All the man could do was rapidly nod his head and briefly plaster a fake, reassuring smile before excusing himself.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I would like to-”

“You’re dismissed thank you Killian. Your services for today have been fulfilled until next week’s lesson,” Rumple grumpily interrupted Killian with the one thing he has wanted to hear the entire day.

“Yes Mr Gold, of course,” Killian quickly replied before grabbing his things and leaving before another word could be spoken.

“See you next week Killian!” Peter shouted before hearing the rapid slamming of the door. There Killian stood, out in the rain, happier and more fearful than ever.

‘ _I’ll have to do this again…?’_ a thought Killian did not want to have to think of because in his mind, there was absolutely no _fucking_ way he would be doing that _again_.


	3. The Final Ultimatum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian simply can't imagine himself going through yet another eventful piano lesson, so, he goes against his gut and everything he's ever been told and tries his luck at facing, and hopefully persuading, his boss to perhaps reconsider the situation for Killian's sake. But, while presenting The Croc with his proposition, he finds out the hard way what the price is for wasting Mr Gold's time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Finally, an update! I apologise for the delay on the update, but at last, it's here! Although I do take forever to update this fic (trust me, I know), I will not forget nor discard this story, don't worry (: Enjoy!

Four days. Four days had passed and Killian still wasn’t over it. He could practically still feel Peter’s nimble fingers tugging at his belt, could still taste his warm tongue twirling around his own, could still hear heavy breathes gasp for air and affection. It’s been four days since his boss’s son dropped to his knees and tempted his teacher into something he most definitely shouldn't've been doing and  _ still _ , he wasn’t over it.  Skilful hands and alluring whispers  _ taunted _ him,  _ encouraged  _ ~~ manipulated ~~ him, mocking his self-control for which had been thrown far out of sight since the bloody bastard entered his life; ever growing smirk and burning eyes still being morphed into an all too familiar memory  ~~ desire ~~ . It’s all been too much to simply  _ forget _ . He couldn’t.  ~~ He wouldn’t ~~ .

Images replayed in his head, visions conjured within his mind for what might have been had it never rained and thundered leaving the two aching. Killian was surely glad to see the parents of the teen return home, of course, but something within him was left dissatisfied, still yearning for  _ something _ , yet he’d never admit it, never to  _ him _ . He would never hand over all of his desires to that juvenile delinquent, preying on unsuspecting piano teachers and God knows who else. 

He remembers all too well the fear and the thrill of almost being caught by Rumple as he was taking advantage of his son. He was almost certain that he’d be caught in the act. In Killian’s own ticking mind, nothing was more conspicuous than his rosy cheeks, shortness of breathe, unbuttoned top button, messy ‘sex’ hair and swollen lips bruised from Peter’s life-sucking make-out session. Though his physical state was all but composed after the couple's unexpectedly early arrival, it occurred to Killian that his mind was screaming; his thoughts writhing within him, practically  _ certain _ that right there and then, seated on a piano stool in the middle of the Gold’s residence, a murder would surely be committed.

You’d think that the experience Killian endured from his first piano lesson with the troublesome boy would be a fair indication to  _ not _ continue the lessons. You’d think Killian would never again put himself in that situation, but he kept in mind that things hadn’t become out of hand, and although they could’ve, it  _ hadn’t _ . Killian wasn't actually caught; he escaped The Crocodile's clutch of death, looking the completely unsuspecting man directly in the eyes after having just moments before his return surrendered to Peter’s alluring seduction. He walked out a free man, adrenaline and lust still rushing through his veins without Rumple noticing a thing. It was…  _ exhilarating _ to say at the least, a feeling he could easily become _ addictive _ . Whether it was the experience or the boy that made him feel this way, he knew he would become unhealthily hooked to it  ~~ hooked to Peter ~~ .

He could see the boy’s puffed cheeks as his head lulled back with pleasure and toes curled in his boots with delight. His fingers traveling through the younger’s hair, Peter’s head bobbing as he closed his eyes rolling them further back.  _ Yes _ , imagining this rush overcoming him, a wave of pleasure and adrenaline hyping up his senses, falling victim to the boy’s thoughtful mouth-- No. He couldn’t do this, not  _ again _ . He couldn’t face the little brat, nor would he put himself through the  ~~ pleasurable, exhilarating ~~ hell he went through previously. There was only one way that would be so. He had to mark his intentions firmly to the boy by giving up these little ‘piano’ lessons and this, he had to take up with The Crocodile himself.

Thinking about doing something was one thing, but standing up and knocking on that bastard’s door was another. With a tight grip around his pen, as if it were a stress ball, he had decided rather impulsively that he was readier than he'd ever be. Killian mustered up his courage and pushed his office chair out from beneath his desk before manoeuvring his way through the maze of surrounding cubicles, marching straight to his boss’s office. 

Faint whispers circling around from neighbouring cubicles found their way to Killian’s ears, dampening his pride. Even his own trusted colleagues thought he had completely lost it; only a fool would even consider a face-off with The Croc. Perhaps he had become an insane fool, but at this stage, he needed to vanquish this boy  this ~~addiction~~ from his mind, he needed this to be over, once and for all for his sanity. 

Ever since this ‘extra’ job, news spread around about Killian’s lessons with Peter, the ‘ _ wild’ _ child. Of course no one ever actually knew for sure how the piano lesson truly unfolded, that never stopped rumours from flowing freely from drama hungry mouths. Though his colleagues never acted like much more than teenage gossip girls, they weren’t  _ all  _ stupid. They knew  _ exactly _ what that boy was capable of, being the ringleader of a notorious street gang, ‘The Lost Boys’, not to mention getting anything and everything he ever wanted. Though he had heard his fair share of warnings spurring from past circulated rumours, he had never heard of one quite similar to his own situation. 

Attempting to discard the degrading comments he picked up on his way, he replayed his pre-prepared speech in his head while closing in on Mr. Gold’s door; ‘ _ He’ll understand, _ ’ he’d thought. ‘ _ Surely, for once, he’ll understand… right? _ ’

He was all too familiar with this situation; determined, assertive office employee ready to stick it to the man, or as they like to call it in the office, ‘sticking it to The Croc’, only to be belittled and of course, rejected by the unforgiving maneater. No brave, more less stupid, solider in the past had ever survived their nasty confrontation with the beast. However, despite the past trial and errors, a firm, confident hand turned the doorknob before being ungratefully greeted. The game had begun.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you, Jones. What calls for this,” he clicked his tongue,” occasion?” Rumple grumbled with distaste dripping in his tone as he fiddled with documents neatly placed on his conspicuously pristine desk. 

“Well you see, sir,” Killian fiddled with his tie, “I wish to address a my opinion concerning one of my duties. You see, I don’t believe I am very well suited to the extra job you provided me with; the piano lessons with your son, Peter…” Killian gulped as Gold’s face darted up to meet his.  _ ‘Get to the point damnit, Killian, _ ’ he reminded himself.

“Go on,” the man aggressively retorted, leaning back with his hands clasped together in his lap as a now petrified Killian continued.  _ ‘Firm, confident...’ _ he reassured himself.

“I just thought it’d be best for you to... reconsider. All I ask of you is to assign me to another job better suited for my situation. Perhaps I could work overtime in the office, or maybe I could--,” 

“Enough,” and with that, Killian had but for all of a second forgotten the basics of breathing. The man leaned in, ready to attack. “I will ‘reconsider’ only if I, myself, deem it necessary, which in this case, I do not,” Gold spat through his teeth, reminding Killian how exactly he earned his title as ‘The Crocodile’,  shredding apart ideas and hopes entirely, degrading unsuspecting victims to the core. In most respects, his boss had lost much of his dignity around the office after being labelled with his ridiculous nickname, but regardless,  _nothing_ could ever be impactful enough to assuage the horrifying reality of being thrown into the monster's murky waters, awaiting its attack. “If however, you do wish to step away from the piano lessons, consider it your resignation from this job too,” Rumple spat, biting through Killian’s offer and thrashing it, making a mockery of his request. The man leaned back into his chair, observing his doing of crushing Killian’s hope. He had indeed done well.

With that, Killian nodded and simply replied, “I assure you, that won’t be necessary, sir,” before turning to the door to make a hasty exit.

“Oh, and Jones…?” Rumple asked grabbing Killian’s attention one last time. “Don’t bother coming back and wasting  _ my _ time again. You know how much I hate having my time wasted,” Gold finished, Killian sorrowfully nodding his head down one last time before following through with his much desired exit. "I'll expect to see you tomorrow for Peter's next lesson Mr. Jones," he finished behind a closing door.

As Killian exited the deadly environment, closing the door behind him, he could’ve sworn he had almost heard Rumple _ laughing _ . That bastard. That  _ bloody bastard! _  How could that man  monster behind that door, eating his way through his own happiness, find  _ pleasure _ in doing so? None were near as foul as that snickering beast behind the door Killian so desperately wished to swing up once more to _crush_ the man the way he had just done to him. The way he had _always_ done.

Killian remembered the day he first met him, the fear that struck him the moment their eyes first met. The firm, intimidating handshake resembling much to his son’s. The kind of handshake that affirms who exactly is in charge between the two. He should’ve known from that moment what he had really signed up for. He should've known he was signing his life away by accepting the man’s job opportunities. He should’ve  _ known _ the bastard enjoyed ruining his life, but, then again, had he known any sooner nothing would’ve changed; he would still, despite this enlightenment, be used and mistreated, and Killian wouldn’t do a thing to stop it because he simply  _ can’t  _ ~~ won’t ~~ .

He wandered off back to his cubicle with heavy shoulders, weighed down by defeat, cursing to himself reminding himself that he had no choice, that there was no other way of achieving his goal of pursuing his music career. He simply had to face the reality of there being no way of escaping Peter; he had to face him once again. So there he was sitting at his desk once more typing away and dreading the next lesson, because this time, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it from escalating.

How could he resist? Yes, he managed to escape after last lesson’s nightmare,miraculously, but only under the circumstances of that situation; the rain, the parents unexpected, but much needed return. But next time would be different - no rain, no interruptions. This time it would just be him and Peter, alone and exposed.  

This time, perhaps he wouldn't deny the fact the very sight of the boy boils his core and sends his lonely hand traveling down under sheets at night. This time, perhaps he would  _ let  _ the boy win. Killian smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter was shorter than usual, but trust me when I say there is much still to come! Hope you enjoyed (:

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter!  
> Feel free to leave a kudo and any feed back and/or opinions
> 
> To be continued... <3


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